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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29489169">Jagged eggs and luscious roses</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marro/pseuds/Marro'>Marro</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Slice of Skyrim [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aeryn plays a long bc he loves his idiot, And the roses are pretty, Argis is no culinary whiz, At least the bread tastes good, Breakfast, But damn if he isn't trying, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:55:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,293</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29489169</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marro/pseuds/Marro</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's The Day of the Lovers, the Bosmerian equivalence to Skyrim's 'Hearth's Day', a day Aeryn has never celebrated or ever planned on celebrating. He's never cared for the decorations, the tradition of stealing a gift for a love interest, or the tooth-rotting sweet desserts. </p><p>But, when you share house with a romantic sap whose life evolves around heart-bleeding fiction and thoughtful gestures, you don't have a choice.</p><p>Aeryn hates it, or so he claims, though honestly, he's just happy the kitchen's still standing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Argis the Bulwark/Male Bosmer Character(s), Argis the Bulwark/Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Slice of Skyrim [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2270702</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Jagged eggs and luscious roses</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Something's burning.</p><p> </p><p>Aeryn peels his eyes open when a pungent smell stings his nose, his senses kicking in before his brain can fully comprehend what in Yffre's name is going on in the next room. It doesn't smell of fire, so he probably won't have to spring out through the window, but muffled distress seeps through the cracks of the door, alerting an unease in his stomach. Aeryn groans. </p><p>He's cooking something, isn't he?</p><p>It usually isn't a horrible experience, as Argis has kept them fed on the road on numerous occasions without anyone spending the night throwing it back up, but whenever he's trying something new, Aeryn prefers standing beside to ensure that nothing explodes, as this has happened once or twice. The amount of a 'pinch' of fire salt apparently differs depending on the size of your hands. </p><p>Apparently, today is an adventurous day in their - mostly Aeryn's - small, lovely kitchen, and with a groan, the Bosmer moves up to a sitting position, shuddering when cool air sneaks in beneath the blanket. Taking a moment to get accustomed to the darkness and gathering strength to venture out of bed, he then slides his feet down onto the fluffy rug and gets up. </p><p>Barefoot, lazily dressed in a pair of cotton trousers and one of Argis' worn, ridiculously soft shirts, Aeryn drags his feet out into the cabin's common room and halts in the doorway.</p><p>
  <em> 'Oh, you fucking dork.' </em>
</p><p>On the dinner table are roses, colors ranging from peachy pink to luscious red, strewn over that white cloth they never use because why would they eat on anything that attracts stains like flames for moths? Two candlesticks are lit, placed between a set of dishes and cups, the rest of the dark room illuminated in warm, flickering light from the roaring fire of the hearth.</p><p>It takes several seconds for Aeryn to take it all in, and does so in time to notice a figure hovering in the corner of his eye.</p><p>"Oh. Um. Good morning...?"</p><p>Aeryn folds his arms and leans against the doorframe, bleary eyes glancing at the entrance to the kitchen between sprawling strands of orange hair, where the idiot himself is presented with a nervous smile and a baking tray in hands that he purposely raises out of the short elf's view. Aeryn loses the fight against a smirk.</p><p>"Mornin'," he drawls hoarsely. "How's the kitchen?"</p><p>"In one piece," Argis assures, nodding excessively, by now knowing that one does not fuck up Aeryn's favorite place in the house, then shuffles his feet. "I, uh, was about to come wake you up in a while, but - "</p><p>"Want me to go back to bed?" Aeryn jabs a thumb over his shoulder. "I can do that. I'll do that," he says when Argis stares dumbfounded and turns. "You do your thing, pretend I was never here."</p><p>"O - okay."</p><p>Chuckling, Aeryn crawls back in under the sheets and spends the following fifteen or so minutes grinning at the sounds of clattering dishes and Argis moving around between the kitchen and the table, muttering and humming. He's impressed that Argis remembered the date for the Bosmerian equivalence to Hearth's Day, which Aeryn briefly mentioned, what, months ago? He also added that he never celebrates it, but knowing Argis, he actively ignored that for a reason to spoil him with teeth-rotting-sweet gestures. </p><p>Aeryn hates it. </p><p>Which is why he pretends to be asleep when Argis pushes the door open to the bedroom and pretends to wake up, yawning and stretching and groaning, when the Nord sits down on the edge of the bed, gently placing one of those plate-sized hands on his waist. </p><p>"Good morning, love," Argis whispers, amusement cracking through the softness of his voice, and leans down to press a gentle, beard-scratchy kiss on his forehead.</p><p>"Mornin', <em>paradan</em>," Aeryn whispers back and untangles an arm to wrap behind Argis' neck, pulling him back down for a proper kiss. He hums. "Have you been cooking? Smells lovely."</p><p>Argis snorts a laugh, then pecks him on the nose. "Bet it does. Come, I've prepared something for you."</p><p>"Oh, a surprise? For me?" Aeryn proceeds in mock-shock, which earns him a burst of laugher. "You spoil me."</p><p>"That I do."</p><p>"... Ass."</p><p>Aeryn goes on to act like he never saw the spectacle that is their dining area, which drops to proper surprise when he's motioned to sit down and finds himself staring at his plate. </p><p>Two fried, sunny-side-up eggs, one with a broken yolk, have been cut and shaped with a hacksaw into hearts - he thinks - and laid upon pieces of bread with blackened crust. There's a small pile of apple slices, drowned in honey and cinnamon, added in that order so most of the cinnamon has pooled out on the plate with the honey, and a chunk of that delicious potato bread they stock up on from the market in Shor's Stone, which might be the savior of the plate.</p><p>Calling it a 'disaster' would be an understatement.</p><p>His gaze wanders off to the side, to one in the sea of roses, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth; the thorns have been removed and the stalk neatly cut, and there's a faint, yellowy shimmer emanating from the pink bud. Argis must've gotten these from the gardener in Riften; it's the only person Aeryn knows of who enchants flowers to survive throughout the winter, as well as staying alive after being harvested. Though he can't figure out when he bought them? Or did he order them? Sneaky bastard.</p><p>Argis' nervous fidgeting finally catches his attention, and looking up, this giant of a man appears to be seconds away from either breaking into tears or screaming. He wrings his hands in his lap and glances down at his plate.</p><p>"It's not... Perfect, I know," he says sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. "I struggled a bit with the eggs - "</p><p>"I love it," Aeryn blurts, because he does, and he hates that he does, but fuck, it's<em> adorable</em>, and he can't imagine this loaf-head of a dork to try and display his love and affection in any other way than massacred eggs and roses. He smiles at Argis' stunned expression. "Thank you. I'm... I appreciate that you made this for me. Really."</p><p>With that, the fear freezing Argis' face melts, the tension dropping off his shoulders like a pair of boulders, and this, ugh,<em> sweet</em>, excited smile lights his face as well as a spark of warmth in Aeryn's chest.</p><p>"Good. I mean, I'm glad, I, uh..." The blush tinting his cheeks matches the cerise rose petal Aeryn discreetly fishes out of his cup of tea. "I know you don't celebrate this day, but I just... You know."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>Aeryn rolls his eyes amusedly at Argis' beaming grin and shifts his attention to the plated mayhem of a breakfast. </p><p>"Maybe it tastes better than it looks," Argis offers when Aeryn brings up a piece of bread to his face and studies the uneven distribution of salt and pepper on the egg before daring a bite.</p><p>It doesn't taste <em>as </em>bad as it looks, but honestly, Aeryn would've enjoyed the meal even if it turned his stomach, because Argis spent the entire morning making him this romantic, cloying surprise. After all, that's what Argis does; spoils him with affectionate gestures until he tastes bile in his throat, and, as much as he complains about it, Aeryn wouldn't have it any other way.</p><p>In a few months, when Hearth's Day arrives, Aeryn will make sure to return the gesture, though he prefers a different type of tactic to show his affection. </p><p> </p><p>One that is best expressed in bed. Or on the sofa. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As you might've guessed, 'The Day of the Lovers' is a made-up holiday, Idk if Bosmers celebrate anything like this, but now they are. </p><p><i>Paradan</i> is Bosmeris for 'husband' or 'male love interest'.</p><p>Kudos and opinions are appreciated &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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